


Vulnerable

by Luckless_Salmon



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:08:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22667536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luckless_Salmon/pseuds/Luckless_Salmon
Summary: A vignette about scars and the start of something new.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 3
Kudos: 65





	Vulnerable

It had begun as blandly as always; Dimitri had slipped out of the intra-class dinner, attempting to find a quiet place to placate the voices clawing at the inside of his skull. He had perched himself on the ledge between the cemetery and the Holy Tomb, reasoning that it was perhaps the most fitting location to reason with the dead. So wrapped up in his own thoughts, however, the blond had failed to note another’s presence until there was warm breath against the shell of his ear. 

“Escaping the festivities already, Your Princeliness? That’s hardly appropriate royal decorum, you know.” 

Things between he and Claude had been... odd lately. Not necessarily in a bad way, but one that had Dimitri’s heart stuttering in his chest, his palms sweating just a bit too often to blame on the weather. A gentle brush of the hand while pouring over shared study materials, a side long glance in the midst of training, the little things were driving him absolutely mad.

It was perhaps this newly discovered fondness that allowed Claude to convince the blond to unbutton his uniform jacket, to peel away the white undershirt beneath. 

_ (“It certainly is warm out here,” the brunet had mused, eyes trained on the full moon above. There was a carnivorous glint in the emerald of his irises, a reminder of the way he had practically drunk in the sight of Dimitri’s bared flesh at the training grounds earlier in the day. “I doubt anyone would fault us for getting a bit more comfortable, eh?”)  _

Seemingly satisfied with his work, Claude had slumped next to Dimitri on the wall, moving to unfasten his own top. Neither man said a word, content in each other’s presence alone. As someone who could rarely escape the cacophony in his head, Dimitri could easily appreciate that here was something beautiful in the silence, unspoken but almost palpable in the heady summer night air. 

The pair remained this way for some time, with only the glittering stars in the sky to illuminate the courtyard. In perhaps his most effortful task of the day, Dimitri tried not to focus too intently on the feeling of Claude’s forearm against his own, or the way the other man’s hair smelled faintly of pine. Distracted once more, the blond gasped upon feeling calloused fingertips against his bicep. 

“Where did these come from?” the brunet asked, tilting his head towards a thick set of healed wounds on Dimitri’s upper arm. The pattern was erratic, much like the skirmish they arose from.

“My maiden battle,” Dimitri murmured. “An axe wielder nearly took off my arm. If it weren’t for some strong healing magic, my reign would have ended before it could even begin.”

The brunet nodded at that, not pausing to to meet Dimitri’s gaze. Still, the blond doubted the older man had missed the way his voice had hitched, warbled near the end. 

_ (‘Weak’ a voice hissed in the back of Dimitri’s mind, one the blond tried to stomp out).  _

“And this one?” Claude inquired lowly, running his fingertips (softly, ever so softly) along the ridge of a broad, splotchy scar; the injured flesh curled about Dimitri’s ribcage like a snake suffocating its prey. 

“Duscur,” the blond replied shortly, unwilling to elaborate. Claude gave little more than a hum in reply, allowing his fingers to drop and rest against Dimitri’s thigh. 

“What of you?” Dimitri inquired quietly. eyes trailing along the expense of Claude’s skin. There was the occasional mole, a faint trail of dark hair leading past the waistband of the brunet’s pants (Dimitri tried not to focus on for too long), but nary a scar to be seen. “I’m sure you have plenty of your own tales to tell.” 

The Riegan heir nodded. “Indeed I do, but none as visible nor beautiful as your own. A consequence of my bloodline, I’m afraid.”

“I would hardly call my scars beautiful,” Dimitri muttered after a short snort. “Perhaps mangled, horrid, repulsive, but never beautiful.”

“On the contrary, I find them to be quite stunning,” Claude countered, gently squeezing Dimitri’s thigh. “They are very representative of you as a person: sincere, steadfast, strong. Those are all traits I admire in you.”

The blond felt a flush crawl from his neck to his cheeks, hating the way his chest appeared mottled when he blushed. “S-surely you jest.”

“For someone who acts the part of a perfect prince, you certainly don’t have the confidence of one,” Claude teased, a playful lilt to his tone. Without delay, he moved to intertwine his fingers with Dimitri’s own. “We’ll have to work on that.”

About a thousand and one questions rushed through Dimitri’s mind: _ Perfect? We? Claude’s hands are awfully warm. _

_ ‘Fool boy, what do you think you’re-‘ _

“Is that so?,” the blond managed after a moment, cutting off the sickly voice in his head. He would allow himself this reprieve, this fantasy, even if only for tonight. He swallowed hard. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant for the 'scars' prompt for DimiClaude week but... life happened. Short and sweet... here's to cindered shadows coming out tomorrow and (hopefully) more canon interaction of these boys! Thank you so much for reading.


End file.
